Closure
by Wickedgal08
Summary: One-shot, my longest yet! I didn't think Charlie got a big enough reaction to his death, especially from certain characters. Here's all the survivors thoughts about Charlie during the season four opening episode.


**Closure**

**Summary:- **I don't think Charlie's death was properly acknowledged on the show. We had one episode, if that, of emotions over his death and then...nothing. Charlie sacrificed his _life _to save everyone which is why I'm writing this piece. It's basically every character's reaction to his death in a little more depth. I didn't include Juliet because she didn't really know him that well.

**-Aaron- **

Though he was scarcely more than an infant, Aaron was more aware of his surroundings than his mum probably realised. Even whilst in the sanctuary of his mum's womb, he could hear her and everyone around her. And he always knew there was something special about the man his mum always seemed to be with.

_Charlie. _

He was the first one who felt the loss of Charlie, even though no one knew it at the time. From the very moment the man he'd come to know and love had released his last breath, Aaron had let out a wail and a sob in one, letting out his feelings of anguish and woe. The strings between reality and madness had been savagely cut by the spilling of innocent blood.

The little infant curled up inside his mother's arms and wept, ignoring her attempts to soothe him. If she knew what he knew, she'd be crying too. No more would he hear the faint strumming of a guitar, nor would he hear the faint humming of a man who's musical background had been the making and breaking of his character. No more would he look up into the eyes of the only man he wanted to call daddy, and no more would he see the corner of Charlie's lips turn up in a proud smile as he, Aaron, grabbed the older man's finger. And no more would he see his mother smile and laugh, for he knew this piece of news would cripple her.

"Ssh, it's ok." His mummy frantically soothed him. A taller, darker haired woman walked beside her but Aaron barely noticed. His own crying was a startling sound but in his mind he envisioned a room that was flooded and which trapped his daddy inside. The tears streamed down his face and he flailed his arms and legs about, trying to signal to his mum that everything was wrong, that the plan had failed and that one of their number was gone forever.

"What's wrong with him?" The darker haired woman enquired, peering at Aaron inquisitively. The infant still wailed on, though his sobs were suppressed now.

"I don't know, I think he's scared." His mum replied, staring at her son and trying to figure out what was wrong. Aaron met her gaze and tried to convey to her that the man she adored and doted upon, was gone. She didn't get the message though. _I think he's scared. _

She didn't know how right she was. He _was _scared but not because of the journey they were making. He was scared because he knew he would lose her soon, lose her to the grief that she was going to feel when someone informed her of Charlie's death.

**-Bernard- **

He was taken aback by the news of Charlie's death. He couldn't believe that the words had come out of Desmond's mouth. It made no sense. Bernard liked to think of himself as a practical man but this, this was beyond practicality. How could a young man-just a kid really- be banished from the world he'd come to know and love? It was unfair to say the least.

Bernard was no fool and he certainly wasn't unaware of the strong relationships Charlie had forged whilst on the island. Claire and Hurley were the main two that he'd noticed. He'd noticed the adoring look Charlie gave to Claire when he thought she wasn't looking, and the shy, sweet look she'd given him when she thought _he _wasn't looking. That was love, right there. Even if it wasn't a fully blossomed flower, it was a bud of something beautiful. You had to nurture something like that, not abandon it and hope it grew on its own.

Was that what Charlie had done? Had he left Aaron and Claire so he could prove himself a hero? Or was there some ulterior motive to what he'd done? During the last few weeks, Bernard had noticed Charlie had become attached to Desmond as well though the looks they shared had ranged from fear to fury and even to doubt.

"You ok, hun?" The sweet voice of Rose woke him up to the reality of the situation. Somehow, he had ended up in the middle of the clearing, watching all the happy reunions taking place. His own seemed to be forgotten already, though the woman who stood beside him faithfully could never be ignored or forgotten. His eyes watched Claire being approached by Hurley, a look of sorrow on his face.

Bernard hated scenes like this. He was a dentist, not Rambo. Rose was always right, though he'd never have admitted it. He turned aside to let them have their moment, have their grief. The sniffling, the cry of denial and the sobbing all told him the news had been delivered. Bernard couldn't watch, for he remembered the funeral of Shannon. Why did the old linger, the young perish and the rest suffer with the burden of grief? Life wasn't fair, especially on the young.

Poor Charlie was the next victim of life's cruel game. The question remained; who would be next? Who would have to cry on someone's shoulder next time? Would it be someone older this time? Would he lose Rose, not to cancer as he had always feared, but in a more tragic, horrifying way? He shuddered and gripped her hand tighter, trying to block out Claire and Hurley's sobbing and allowed his eyes to close, out of respect for the dead. Rose squeezed his hand, reassuring him that she was still there and that she was not going to disappear; she understood him perfectly well.

**-Claire- **

At first, she thought the news of Charlie's death had been some kind of sick joke. But in her heart of hearts, she knew it was not a joke, nor was it a pack of lies. Her brave Charlie was gone. Denying the truth had been her mind's way of blocking out the inevitable pain that would crush her. Denial was such a simple, sweet way of keeping her heart from knowing the truth.

"He-he's dead," Hurley choked. She glanced at him questioningly, not daring to believe that he was talking about her sweet, adorable Charlie. Denial was starting to sink in, though little spouts of doubt and fear were overtaking it. "Charlie's d-dead."

And there you had it; the hard, cold, bitter truth. She let out a cry of denial, not too loud just a whisper really, and then she succumbed to the grief that threatened to tear her in two. Why? What had happened? He had saved them all and yet had died doing so. She sobbed and sobbed on Hurley's shoulder, thankful he was there to provide some comfort.

_"Be careful Charlie. Ok?" _Those had been her last words to him. How pathetic. Why couldn't she have told him the truth? That she couldn't watch him walk away without her insides crumbling. That he was her steady rock which had supported her for so long. That she...loved him. Yes, that was the right word. She wasn't the kind of girl who believed in giving your heart away so rashly, for her experience with Thomas had matured her a little. It taught her to be careful of who you trusted, as they could let you down at any minute. In a way, Charlie had taught her that lesson too but it wasn't polite, nor true to think of him in a dark, menacing way.

"W--what happened?" She released herself from Hurley's shoulder and stared at the bigger man, wondering what he was thinking right now. "I mean how...how did h-he-?" She couldn't bring herself to say the word 'die' so she allowed her voice to cut off at the end, sounding as though she had the hiccups. It would've been like she had accepted his fate.

"He was trying to help us." Hurley replied, his voice choked with emotion. Claire sniffed and sighed and moaned and silently carried on crying, aware that everyone was watching but not finding the strength to care. Let them watch. She had lost someone she had deeply cared about, even loved, and surely that justified her misery?

_"I love you," _though the words had been directed at Aaron, Claire liked to imagine that the words had been directed at her too, though Charlie had been too shy to gaze at her to say it. Either too shy, or too scared. Did he know what his fate was? And more importantly, did Desmond know? Was that why the Scotsman was avoiding her eye? Claire had a horrible feeling she was right and that the mission Charlie had embarked on had been suicide in a way. A heroic suicide, but suicide nonetheless.

Did he die for her? Claire sincerely hoped he hadn't because the guilt that weighed on her mind would become heavier. She didn't want to be responsible for someone dying, especially someone who'd cared for her, cherished her and Aaron and who'd given his last breath to see everyone to safety.

Hurley's voice broke her out of her thoughts and the sight of Jack, Locke, Kate, Rousseau and Ben brought her back down to reality. When had they arrived? She must've been absolved in her grief. She glanced at her comrade in this grief and saw the unmistakeable sight of a tear rolling down his cheek as he spoke passionately of his best friend. He declared that Jack was wrong and therefore refused to follow him. That was a big movement for a neutral person such as Hurley. How could Claire follow such an act? She thought she saw Kate's eyes flicker in her direction but maybe she was just imagining it. Who else could've been aware of the strong and physical bond her and Charlie had shared? As far as the camp was concerned, they had been just part of the scenery, part of the fabricated life they had made for themselves on the island. Jack, Kate, Locke and Sayid were the main ringleaders of this circus and it had always been accepted by everyone because it gave them someone to look up to, someone to rely on to make a decision.

Suddenly, all eyes were on her and she realised she was supposed to make a decision. Should she follow Jack, a man who was a good leader and a great friend or Charlie? There was no question in her mind. She inhaled deeply, thought of Charlie's kind and courageous face and then marched off to join Hurley. Of all the decisions she'd made, this was the most sure she'd ever been in making one. Following Charlie was the same thing as following her own heart and, therefore, how could her heart fail her? In the next coming weeks, though she'd never show it, she would experience the devastating aftermath of bereavement. No longer was she the happy, carefree girl who'd always had a smile on her face. She was now a woman, who had to juggle looking after her son with her own survival.

In so many ways, Charlie's death was her own coming-of-age procedure. It was a sharp wake up call to the reality of her situation and therefore she had to make sure she didn't become too depressed, too weepy or too clingy to the past or else Aaron would suffer. She owed it to Charlie to carry on.

**-Desmond- **

In some ways, he was the most affected by Charlie's death. After all, no one else had had to watch their friend drown right in front of them. Desmond had banged the door in hopelessness, knowing there was nothing he could do. Even at the last moment, he'd tried to save Charlie but it was too late. It was always too late. He'd lost Penny and now he'd lost Charlie.

Reluctantly, Desmond had had to leave the station. It felt cruel and callous in leaving Charlie's body in the Looking Glass but he couldn't access it. If he could have accessed it, right now he would have been pumping the life back into the ex-rock star with enormous energy. Charlie was at peace now. The universe had won, it had claimed another innocent life. He spat angrily on the ground and wanted to scream with rage. Life just wasn't bloody fair. His throat ached for the soothing taste of McCutcheon's whiskey but that could wait.

Right now, he had news to deliver.

Swimming back up was the easy part. Rowing the heavy paddle boat back to the shore, with the added burden of Charlie's death on his shoulders and on his soul was the hard part. He had no idea how to break the news to the others, for he'd never had any experience in bereavement.

He could see people on the beach. He saw Hurley dive into the ocean, a look of utter glee on his face. It broke the Scotsman's heart that he would be responsible for making that look disappear. Sayid and Sawyer, along with Jin, Bernard and Juliet had seen him coming and were waving at him. He gulped, wishing he had a share of Charlie's courage to see him through, and then jumped out of the boat.

Everyone was shouting at him at once, congratulating him on a successful misson and generally asking if he was ok. They hadn't noticed that Charlie was missing. Good. It gave him time to think, to build up to it.

Then Hurley came over. His voice grew louder and louder, until he literally screamed the question that nobody else had thought to ask.

_"Where's Charlie?" _

What else could Desmond say? He just gazed at Hurley mournfully, trying to find the right words to say and then said the only three words he could say in such a situation.

"I-I'm sorry, brotha." And instantly, by everyone's reactions, it was clear that they knew Charlie was gone. Dead. Deceased. Passed on. However you wanted to put it.

The hardest part was still to come. Desmond knew, probably better than anyone else, about the intensity of Charlie and Claire's relationship. It was more than just puppy love, it was something stronger. Destiny, one might call it. Unfortunately, that word had lost all meaning for him. He was sick to death of the words 'fate' and 'destiny' because, once upon a time, he had believed his meeting Penny had been an act of fate. They had, in his eyes, been destined to be together and because of his cowardice, he had removed her from his life.

He became cold at the thought that Charlie's fate had been in his hands all along. He alone was responsible for the Mancunian's death. For, if he hadn't have broken up with Penny, he would never have joined the army to regain his honour and would've never have joined Charles bloody Widmore's boat race after being kicked off the island. He would've never have landed on the island and would never have caused Charlie's plane to crash. Desmond recalled all this with a sick sensation in the pit of his stomach, knowing all the survivors' misfortunes were all his fault. Claire was walking into view now and he felt winded by her small, hopeful smile on her face. He had to be the one to tell her but luckily, Hurley stepped in. Something told him that talking to Claire would make things a lot worse.

Her reaction killed him inside. Her innocent, slightly naive face seemed to convey a sense of doubt or incredulity at what Hurley was telling her. She didn't (or wouldn't) comprehend that Charlie was no longer with her. His heart broke for her and he knew that somewhere, Charlie's heart was probably breaking too. You just couldn't get over that kind of love and he of all people should know _that._ Eight years on and he was still pining for Penny. 3 years on the island, 5 years off the island.

Though Desmond knew that Charlie was right, he decided to stay on the beach. If there was even the slightest chance of rescue, he was going to find it. Charlie had taught him one thing; you didn't ever give up on the one you love.

"Thank you brotha," he murmured, before making the sign of the cross against his chest and turning away so that no one could see him cry.

**-Hurley- **

Hurley had been bullied by Sawyer, he'd endured more than his fair share of fat comments, he'd hallucinated and nearly ended up committing suicide and, to top it all, he'd lost his best friend and new romance Libby. It was, therefore, fair to say he'd had a rotten time of being on the island. But this feeling of bereavement, of an undeniable grief which threatened to tear him in two, was by far the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Losing Charlie was like losing himself, for they were similiar in many ways.

Telling Claire that Charlie would be fine was a way of reassuring himself as well. Staring out at the neverending stretch of blue had seemed daunting and it only served as a dark reminder that his friend was out there, braving this untameable sea.

Leaping into it, therefore, had felt glorious, like he was defying everything and everyone and it also represented redemption. His bad luck was no more, he was a free man. Bernard hadn't understood his hatred of the money he had won- "Who needs $156 million right?"- but Hurley knew that it wasn't so much the money that grieved him, as it was the numbers that had won him that money. The numbers had constantly haunted him, caused him misery whenever he saw them. But everyone thought he was crazy when he told them of this theory. But no longer, for he was free! And happiness had filled him like a bubble, a bubble which unfortunately had to pop.

Resurfacing and gulping in deserved oxygen had been glorious but Hurley's eyes had spotted a lone figure, pushing the paddle boat in. The absence of Charlie screamed at him and he was surprised, not to mention offended, that no one else had spotted it. They were too busy congratulating Desmond and asking if he was alright. As soon as Hurley brought up the obvious question, the rest of his friends' faces had lit up with recognition of the name. And, as soon as Desmond had dealt the unforgivable blow, Hurley had seen their faces crinkle up with sorrowful understanding and he knew that this, for him, was the last straw.

For a while he'd walked around, not understanding how Charlie could be dead. How could it happen? Physically, how could it happen? He was unable to comprehend how his best friend and closest companion on the island could be gone? Bad luck had struck again and this time...it had left a mark.

Then, as soon as his mind was clear, he'd gone back to the others who had been discussing Charlie's last message. Without thinking or hesitating, he'd snatched the walkie from Sawyer and flung it into the ocean. It was his first act of rejecting Jack's leadership, though he didn't know it at the time.

Hurley's mind was thinking ahead all the time, simultaneously as his memory was regurgitating images of Charlie moments before he had left. Did he seem unhappy or discontented before he left? Did he know he was going to die? He had an inkling that he _had _known, especially since only days before he'd confessed that Desmond had seen flashes of his death. This was just speculation though; a desperate and pathetic attempt by Hurley to try and understand the last thoughts of his friend. How was he going to break it to Claire? That in itself was enough to induce more tears, though he hid them well.

"You wanna talk about it?" Sawyer's voice broke into this thoughts. Hurley only averted his eyes to the conman because he was surprised by the kind tone to his voice. Was this brought on by sympathy or was the man seriously changing? Again, he could only speculate.

"Talk about what?" He replied, though he suspected what Sawyer was alluding to.

"Charlie." Sawyer replied, stretching out the name. Hurley's heart shattered at the sound of the name and he stopped walking to face him. How could he possibly convey to his friend, how sick of death he was? It seemed to leer at him everywhere he looked. First it had claimed Libby, now Charlie. The two people he had cared about most were gone. It was a cruel twist of fate, almost as if there was a permanent rain cloud over his head marking him out from everyone else.

Hurley didn't allow Sawyer to say much else, just dismissing his kindness was the only sign that he gave that alluded to the fact that his friend's sacrifice was weighing heavily down on his soul. Even whilst separated from the rest of his friends, he fought bitterly against the whirlwind of emotion that was pulling him down. It was what happened with Libby and yet, back then, they'd had had a body to bury. He would get no closure unless he saw Charlie's lifeless body. Meanwhile, until then he would cling onto the very pointless and desperate hope that somewhere, maybe his friend was still alive.

Running into Locke had been an unpleasant surprise, not because he loathed the man but because he hated people seeing him like this. People were used to seeing happy-go-lucky Hurley and not the miserable Hurley. He recalled to Locke exactly what happened and was chilled by the thought that maybe Charlie had died for nothing.

Watching Claire dissolve into tears had been the breaking point for him. He had been denying, up until this point, that his friend was truly dead but Claire's reaction just made it clear to him that Charlie wasn't coming back. The faces around him, Desmond, Sayid, Locke, all conveyed the appearance of being sad but you had to wonder...did they really mean it? A façade of sadness is what we all have to put on when someone has died but how many of them really knew Charlie? How many of them actually liked and tolerated him and therefore were genuinely upset that he was dead?

Jack's dramatic return distracted everyone, most of all Hurley. He hated the fact that their so called leader, the one person who should've spotted their number was down by one, was too distracted by his animosity with Locke. So he stepped in, defending Locke not because of he believed he would be a better leader than Jack but because of Charlie.

"What about Charlie?" He demanded, finally having the satisfaction of seeing Jack glancing around to spot the ex-rock God. "Charlie went down to...that place...so that we could all be rescued. But something must've happened..." he choked a little, trying to convey to those who didn't know that Charlie was gone, "must've heard something before he..." it was no good, the word 'died' didn't seem to exist anymore. The word had been overused and in a way he was glad there was no body to bury. He didn't think he could face another funeral. He then went on to talk about Charlie changing his mind at the last moment and the last words he had left for everyone.

"I'm not listening to you," he ended his speech by glaring at Jack. "I'm listening to my friend. I'm listening to Charlie." And so ended the happy Hurley. Though he would smile occasionally, share a joke with Sawyer and laugh at something his friends said, he would never be the same person again. And he had Charlie to thank for that. His poor, dead friend Charlie who was just another name to cross off on the flight manifest, and another person to mourn.

**-Jack- **

_"You're just not good at letting go." _Truer words were never spoken. It was just a pity Jack never took them on board. Until now.

Jack had always worried about Charlie, knowing he was an ex-addict who was still a young man. A kid, some could say but he didn't want to be that condescending. He knew Charlie had proven his worth long ago, through rescuing the camp's leader who had been trapped in a cave-in. Looking back on it now, Jack couldn't remember ever saying anything more to Charlie than he had done in the cave. Their friendship had not quite disappeared but he'd not made any effort to reach out to the younger man from that day on.

That had all changed when Jack had found him hanging by his neck from a tree. That sight would forever haunt him and now that Charlie was actually dead, it brought it all flooding back. The very pinnacle of finding Charlie beforehand had been pounding the life back into his battered body. Unfortunately, the life was well and truly gone from the body of Charlie Pace.

Hearing the words and not seeing the body were what confused Jack the most. The oxymoron of those two actions somehow comforted him, knowing that at least he didn't have to look at another person that he'd failed to fix. Though Jack hadn't actually killed Charlie, he felt like he had because he had let him go on this suicidal mission, in place of Sayid. He was unwilling to let Sayid go and yet he allowed Charlie to go. What did that say about him? If it had been between Charlie and Kate, would he have prioritised his friends yet again, based on his heart and not who would fare better in the Looking Glass station? In the latter situation, he would have elected Kate to have gone but when it came to his heart, did that mean he was willing to sacrifice a young man in order to keep the woman he loved alive? So much for his selflessness.

What made the whole situation more unbearable was the fact that Hurley stood up to him, rejected his stubborn decision to wait for rescue and claimed he was listening to Charlie, implying heavily that Jack didn't care about him. That wasn't it at all but he doubted Hurley was in any mood to listen. Watching his people divide in two awoke him to the reality of the situation. People who believed Locke and Charlie became set against those who still believed rescue was coming. Jack didn't doubt Charlie's sincerity or his heroic intents but he had to wonder what had made the younger man change his mind. Did he see something down there, or hear something that could've turned him against the rescue party?

He knew he'd never know for certain. Desmond himself didn't know, though he was particularly quiet this evening. Jack slipped into doctor mode and realised he was probably suffering from post traumatic stress disorder, having watched Charlie die. That could really mess a guy up, as he knew himself. Watching countless patients die before him was not something Jack could ever get used to. No matter how many times it was drilled into his head that accidents did happen in surgeries and that some patients just couldn't hold onto life tight enough, he could never get the images of the pale, chalk white faces of the deceased out of his mind for weeks upon end.

Getting back to reality for a second, Jack realised that the number of his supporters was dwindling fast. The remainder of their group consisted of Kate, Juliet, Sayid, himself and Desmond, surprisingly enough. Jack would've thought that the Scotsman would've gone with Locke, seeing as though he had witnessed Charlie's final message for himself. But then again, he didn't really know the man well enough. A brief encounter in LA had told him that the man was running from something or towards something he cared about but he'd never asked. A man was entitled to his privacy after all.

It wasn't until the rain started to fall that Jack fully realised the consequences of Charlie's death. The skies seemed to be weeping and mourning for the loss of a good, heroic man and the rain symbolised the washing away of everything they had known before. Whether they liked it or not, the rest of the survivors were about to be pulled into a new era upon the island. Would Charlie's sacrifice make a difference? Jack knew that the Briton had harboured secret affections for Claire and he suspected she had been a major influence in his decision to go down to the looking glass station, but if she was going to go with Locke wasn't she rejecting Charlie's decision to get them all rescued? Did that mean that she didn't care about him at all?

In his dreams to come, Jack would always look upon the dividing of the camp, the breaking of a fellowship, as being the pinnacle moment in which everything went wrong. Charlie's death, in so many ways, was the hand that had knocked over the tower of blocks which Jack had spent so much time building up. Morale was shattered, hope was vanquished and a friend had disappeared into the realms of a world that no mortal could ever reach. Not that he believed in that sort of thing.

"You thinking about Charlie?" Kate's voice broke into his thoughts and he realised where he was standing. A very similiar night, which seemed like years ago, had involved himself, Kate and Charlie going off to secure rescue for their friends. Now, it was the exact same situation except with the absence of one person.

When Jack made his reply, he tried not to let emotion choke him up as he remembered his dear friend. Instead, he envisioned the scene that had been played before and smiled sadly at Kate as they both realised that it was at this spot, during a night like this, that new friendships had been forged, proving to be stronger than iron and tougher than steel. It was too bad that people didn't endure, whereas friendships and memories could last for a lifetime.

"How did this happen?" Jack asked softly, deliberately being vague. How did they get here, to this moment in time? How did they survive a catastrophic plane crash? How could an innocent life just be claimed in the blink of an eye? And, more importantly, what would happen next? Charlie's sacrifice had had to have some consequencs but were they necessarily good? Was something worse than the Others out there? Jack didn't want to think like this but at times like these, your mind couldn't help but imagine the worst possible scenario.

**-Jin- **

He might not understand English very well but Jin knew perfectly well the difference between good news and bad news. He was practised in the art of reading faces and body languages and, judging by Desmond's sorrowful look towards Hurley, he knew that Charlie had died in the rescue attempt.

How did he feel about that? Well, in all honesty, Jin hadn't known the guy very well but he'd liked him anyway. Charlie had brought a sort of liveliness and energy to the camp which Jack tended to dampen with news of misery, woe and tidings of evil. Without realising the full extent of what had happened, he cast a bewildered look around and saw that everyone else's facial expressions were grave.

What was going on with the world? People like Boone, Shannon and Charlie were just young, innocent people who had had to shoulder a lot of responsibility for the first time in their lives. He knew what a burden life could be and therefore was experienced in the art of survival. Survival in his case had consisted of saving his marriage with Sun, requiring him to undertake some horrific tasks from Mr Kwon.

He pondered this as he walked with the others to warn Jack and the rest of the camp about Charlie's last message. Charlie's death had opened his eyes to another fact as well; no one was safe anymore. At any moment, he could easily lose Sun and the memory of her attack caused his brow to furrow in pain. Luckily, she didn't feel him tense up.

Claire resembled a lost sheep as she wandered around searching for her beloved Charlie. Jin couldn't watch, having the added burden of knowing the news first. He embraced Sun fiercely and whispered sweet, reassuring words in her ear, vowing to keep her safe.

It wasn't until the division of the camp that it fully hit him how much he would miss Charlie. His cheeky smile and his vain attempts to understand Korean had always amused Jin and the night of their camping experience had been a good one, a funny memory to look back on with amusement. He would never forget the day that he'd strolled into camp along with the rest of the tailies, after being tossed from the raft and having to survive so many weeks in the harsh terrain of the jungle. His first thought had been dread, not knowing if he'd be greeted with hatred at the fact that their mission had failed or disgust at the fact that mad Korean, who attacked everyone with his vicious temper, had returned. The next thing he knew, Charlie was running towards him with outstretched arms and a massive grin on his face. That grin, more than anything else, reassured Jin that he wasn't an outcast any longer and that people _were_ relieved that he was alive. He'd always be grateful to Charlie for that epiphany.

Though he barely understood English, Jin knew that Claire, Hurley and so many others cared for Charlie and he understood the power of sadness very well. It was for that reason that he took a step back into the shadows and allowed the mourning process to begin. He shuddered to imagine his friend dead but he shuddered even more at the thought that it could've been Sun who was receiving the news that he, himself, was dead.

**-Kate- **

Katie, the girl she had used to be, always professed a desire to run. The woman Kate was now accepting that sometimes it wasn't so easy to run.

She had a blast from the past from the moment Hurley had blurted out that Charlie had sacrificed his life to save everyone, knowing that her school crush that had blossomed into love for Tom had resulted in his death. Somehow, that situation mirrored her reality, only she wasn't experiencing grief, she was viewing it.

In her eyes, Claire had been far braver than herself for many reasons. Giving birth on the island was the main reason, though the Australian had claimed that it hadn't been her choice. Crashing on the island hadn't been anyone's choice either and yet they'd had to make the best of it. Claire had been through more than Kate could have ever imagined and had come out of each situation as determined as ever.

Watching the younger woman dissolve into tears now, was like a wake up call. Kate glanced towards Sawyer and then towards Jack, wondering how she'd feel if she lost one, or even both of them. Devastated would be a mild term for the grief she'd feel.

Kate's first memory of Charlie was their journey together towards the cockpit of the plane. There had been something extremely likeable about his character from the very first moment and it had remained throughout their time on the island. Charlie's face had lit up when he realised she had known and liked his band, though her use of the past tense made him realise that their band was no longer in the limelight and could even be labelled as a 'one-hit wonder' group.

Glancing towards Jack's shocked face, Kate wondered if he was thinking what she was thinking; the day they had found Charlie's body hanging from a tree. That memory wasn't going to leave her in a hurry and she shuddered, knowing it had nothing to do with the cold.

Hurley had finished his speech and was marching over to Locke, followed by Claire, Rousseau and Ben and several others, including Sawyer.  
"What are you doing?" She asked, stepping towards him and feeling more confused than ever. Why was Sawyer going with Locke? What had happened to change his entire perspective on life? She noticed he no longer had the letter stuck in the back of his jeans but he hadn't realised she'd noticed.  
"Same thing I've always done Kate." Sawyer replied, his voice blunt and monotonous. "Surviving." So he clearly didn't believe Jack could save them. She stared after him in bitterness, wondering if Claire had watched Charlie walk away with the same sense of abandonment. Did Charlie walk away with the knowledge that he was leaving behind a woman who adored him, despite her carefree façade she tried desperately to keep. More importantly, why had he been so determined to go on this mission? Did he know it would end in death or had his death merely been an accident as he prepared to leave?

As the rain began to fall, Kate began to cry. She liked crying in the rain because it disguised her tears. She didn't sob but instead allowed the tears to fall gracefully down her cheeks. She cried for Charlie, for his heroic sacrifice. She cried for Claire, for her grief. She cried for Boone, for Shannon, for Libby and Ana Lucia. Most of all, she cried for the girl inside her who longed to have someone's arms wrapped her so she could sob deeply and feel secure for once in her life.

For the first time in her life, she longed to stay in one place and settle down. She was sick of running. She was sick of funerals and death. Most of all, she was sick of the person she'd become. If Charlie's death had taught her one thing, it was to live for today and screw tomorrow. Watching Jack stare at the cockpit was a reminder to her that things changed. Once upon a time, a trio of strangers had set out to try and retrieve the transceiver and had ended up making firm friends with each other. Over 100 days later, only two remained because the third had become a hero and had departed this bitter, lonely world to save his friends. And she continued crying, missing those younger days, knowing that she could never get them back. No one could, least of all Jack. He revolved his life around fixing people and fixing situations but she feared that the one person he could never fix, was himself.

**-Locke- **

He had always been right. Locke was filled with self righteousness as he plodded through the jungle. He was right about the plane crash and he was right about the people who were supposedly going to rescue them.

Hurley's tale reminded him that someone's life had been extinguished to prove his point, yet it was proven all the same. He felt sickened by Charlie's death but it sickened him even more to know that all he could think about was the fact he now had more allies to rally against Jack. It was time for change.

"Jack should never have called those people." Hurley muttered darkly.  
"I couldn't agree more." Locke replied, looking earnestly at Hurley. It was nice to have an ally for a change, instead of having the entire camp against him.

"It's gonna be hard to tell people that they aren't here to rescue us."

Locke hesitated before replying, trying to put his response into a context which Hurley could understand and appreciate. "We're just gonna have to try our best, Hugo," he finally said. "Because if we can't convince them that rescue isn't coming...then Charlie died for nothing." Yes, he went there.

Once upon a time, Locke had sat upon the sand and just watched everyone. He had watched Jack become a leader, saw Sayid fall in love with Shannon and vice versa and most of all, he'd observed Charlie and Claire become closer. He'd watched their relationship building up, only to be shattered the moment Ethan took them. From that day onwards, Locke had noticed a change in Charlie. He had become tougher, less naive and, it could be argued, the hero in him had been born. Someone wiser than him had once said that if you've not found something to die for, you've not lived. Claire's disappearance had finally shown Charlie what he was willing to die for. In a way, it was kind of sweet.

The re-appearance of drugs had immediately turned people against Charlie, especially Locke. He glanced at his fists now, as if he couldn't believe they had punched him. Deep down though, Locke suspected that the real reason he'd hit Charlie was nothing to do with drugs. He'd punched Charlie to regain order, and even sub-consciously try and prove himself to the likes of Jack, to show that he could be a good leader and could protect Claire. Of course that was just guesswork and at the time, he and so many other people had believed that Charlie had been back on drugs again.

As he walked alongside Hurley, Locke reflected on the young man he'd once took under his wing and watched closely. When had that bond been severed exactly? Was it the moment Charlie had lied to him or had the bond started to rip earlier? Was it Locke's fault Charlie was gone? Was he responsible, yet again, for a young man's death? Once upon a time, he would've said that Charlie's death was for a reason, a purpose and yet he'd blatantly told Hurley that unless they convinced people that rescue wasn't coming, then he had died for nothing. Did that make him a hypocrite or a liar?

Jack's fists against his face brought back a sense of deja-vu for him and he felt a flicker of unease as he remembered his own fists pounding against the face of a frightened, confused and conflicted man. When Sayid and Sawyer managed to pull Jack off of him, Locke started reflecting on everything he'd ever done and the reasons for it. He'd stripped away his own humanity to become whatever the island told him to be. The gradual estrangement that had occurred between himself and Jack had just been the seed to destroying the camp.

Seeing Hurley, then Claire move away from Jack as though he was contagious was like a weird, distorted dream. His new group, the one that _he _was leader of, looked to him to lead the way. How could they do that? How could they put their trust in someone who was never sure of the decisions he made, who depended on the advice of a piece of_ land _to make his way through life and who was broken beyond repair by the memories of his father and the man he had used to be? How could they follow him into the wilderness with the utmost confidence and believe that he was right?

The answer was right in front of him, in the tears on Hurley and Claire's face. Because of Charlie.

**-Rose- **

The moment the words were out of Hurley's lips, Rose prayed. She prayed that the good, kind, gentle soul of Charlie Pace would make its way to the pearly gates of Heaven and beyond for the man deserved nothing less than a good, long rest.

Though she was never in amongst the action, Rose saw everything. She had watched Charlie particularly because he had once sat next to her and cried, begging for help. She'd told him then that she hadn't been the one to ask for help. Now, she couldn't help but wondering if she'd offered her help that maybe the broken young man would've set on the righteous path sooner, rather than later.

Bernard, her faithful husband, looked stonily ahead and she knew he was upset by the young man's death for the same reason she was. It was a premature, undeserved death. The sudden proximity of deaths seemed to Rose, to mark a sudden change. Maybe it was God's doing, maybe it was the Island's. In this place, who knew who had what power? A small tear slipped out of her eye, the only mark of grief she'd show. Crying did no good; moving on, having the sheer strength to live your life to the full was the only true message death gave in her opinion. After all life is taken so often for granted, you often forget that death can swoop in at any moment.

Claire's eyes met Rose and there was something blank, yet accusing in her stare. Rose guessed the reason why. Moments before, up on the green hill where the phonecall home had been made, she'd bustled over and congratulated Claire on having a hero for a man and that she'd have to treat him 'real good' when he got back. It was obvious the younger woman resented her optimism because it had all been for nothing. Well, what could she say? Optimism kept the mind in a healthier shape than the distortment of pessimistic thoughts.

Bernard interrupted her thoughts by asking if she wanted to go with Locke, to which she replied, "I'm not going anywhere with that man." He'd thrown a knife into the back of a girl, for crying out loud! It was obvious he was mad with delusions about the Island and therefore, Rose trusted only Jack to lead them to safety. Though she believed Charlie's intentions were strictly honourable in dying for his friends, she couldn't believe his final message. Though she had no intention of going home, she knew that everything happened for a reason. Without going to the extremities that Locke did, she believed that these freighter people had an important part to play, whether it was good or bad.

The famous playwright Shakespeare, had once said that all the world was a stage and everyone was merely players, coming and going at life's liberty. Charlie's part, regrettably, was now over. Rose missed the young man's courage and friendly smile but she knew that grieving about him wouldn't bring him back. God had brought her back with Bernard but she knew He wouldn't grant the same miracle for Claire. She clasped her hands together and prayed for her. Prayed that she wouldn't allow the unbearable pain of grief to cause her to forget herself or her son. After all, Charlie wasn't really gone. As long as Claire kept him in her heart, he'd always be there.

**-Sawyer- **

Relaxing in the sun felt unbelievable to Sawyer. The chain of bad luck was gone. Rescue was coming! No more would there be treks into the heart of the jungle of mystery, or more funerals to preside over! Ah, optimism was a great feeling.

He should've known it wasn't to last. This stupid island must've had a law for how much happiness a certain person was allowed.

He was chatting to Juliet and Sayid when they saw the familiar, lone figure of Desmond pushing the boat in to shore. Something lurked in the back of his mind, as though there was something missing from the picture but he shrugged it off, not really caring. The news that rescue wasn't really coming wasn't really a shocker. It was typical that bad luck lurked around every goddamn corner. He himself didn't really care about rescue but all the excitement from everyone else had been infectious.

The clear, loud voice of Hurley startled them all. _"Where's Charlie?!" _In that single question, Sawyer felt shame, fear and self loathing at the fact that he'd failed to spot a missing castaway. Seriously, you would've thought after, what, a hundred days they'd know each other well enough to partake in 'spot the missing survivor' competition.

When it was clear that Charlie had bought it, was pushing up daisies, had kicked the bucket and every other cliché euphemism for death you could think of, he shut up. He allowed the crushing sense of sorrow to fill him for a moment, knowing this was the closest to humanity he was ever going to get. Strangely enough, he'd been fond of Charlie, especially watching him crawl from beneath a rock in order to become a hero. You just didn't expect that kind of change from the VH1-Has-Been.

Oops, he wasn't supposed to think ill of the dead. It was just the way his mind worked. Sometimes he'd be thinking of a film or book and then if someone pestered him, the insult would slip out. How else would you explain his extraordinary quick wit?

Hurley's look of devastation silenced Sawyer further. He didn't have the heart to speak to the guy, knowing he was suffering from grief. It sort of put things into perspective, knowing that death was just around the corner. Inside, Sawyer was experiencing the first droplets of humanity in him by genuinely grieving over someone else. Sure, he'd been upset when Ana-Lulu had been killed but this kind of grief was different. It was the kind of helpless gee-what-do-I-say grief.

Of course, he hid his humanity well, pretending to be more concerned about informing the doc and the others about this new realisation. His eyes kept fixating themselves on Hurley as he spoke, not really surprised when the guy chose to act completely out of character and become Indiana Jones. Hurley and Charlie had been joined at the hip, and watching the former guy break down bit by bit was like watching someone kick a blind, three legged puppy.

Sawyer also acted out of character that day, offering his support and a chance to talk to Hurley. He rejected the offer of course, knowing you couldn't exactly talk to Sawyer like you could to Jack. The conman sighed as he raced ahead to catch up with the others. They were talking in hushed whispers about what would happen next.

"I'm with Jack the whole way," Juliet was saying. "Whatever he decides, I'm going to stick with him."

Sawyer wasn't in the mood to join in the debate and he plodded along in silence. He already knew his decision and as soon as he was given the opportunity, he put it into action. He tried to ignore Claire's sobbing, tried to be deaf to Hurley's sniffles but it was too damn difficult. The one call he couldn't ignore though, no matter how he tried was _her_.

"What are you doing?" Kate tugged on his arm. He sighed and turned to face her gaze, aware he looked more serious than usual.

"Same thing I've always done, Kate." He explained, wishing he could kiss her beautiful lips and envelope her in his arms but she'd made her choice and he had made his. "Surviving."

Ignoring her hurt look, he walked off and wished that Charlie hadn't died. Things had just become so messed up since he died. Everything was so confusing now and the world had gone topsy-turvy. Jack was wrong, Locke was right, Jack was bad, Locke was good. `

"You shoulda stayed here," Sawyer muttered, knowing the one person who was probably laughing his ass off at all of this was the one person who should have been here as well. _Charlie. _

**-Sayid- **

Being a soldier should've prepared him for losing the ones you loved, yet he could never get used to it. First he'd lost Nadia, then Shannon and now Charlie. Why was fate so cruel? He was beginning to think life was just a big game of Cat and Mouse, because sooner or later somebody lost the game and was out of the running for good. Charlie happened to be this round's 'mouse'. Yet the qualities he had shown hadn't been the qualities of a cowardly, small victim. When all was said and done, Sayid knew Charlie was a hero. Maybe not the kind of hero you recognise straight away, like Jack, or the kind of hero who is born into the role. Perhaps he was the kind of hero who steps into the role when he knows he has no other choice and thereby creates his own destiny.

Destiny. It was just a word but it had created so much havoc by dividing a once harmonious camp into two. Locke believed in it, Jack didn't...end of story. Sayid didn't know what to believe anymore. The fact that destiny could claim lives just like that made him highly doubt in its positive role but then again, like he'd once said to Kate, was all of this just an accident? Yes, plane crashes did occur all the time but not like this one. The front section of the plane had been wiped off lives, yet the middle and tail sections managed to survive. A doctor, a fugitive, a conman, a soldier...did they all survive by mere coincidence? It seemed like everyone was lost, lost and insecure. This island was their chance to start over and most of them had taken it.

Now, it was the big conundrum. Which side to take? Sayid didn't trust Locke, but he trusted Charlie. He trusted Jack but not his leadership. Jack was a reactionary because he didn't think, he reacted. Oh this was tough. Sayid wasn't one for witnessing grief. Somehow, it reminded him of his own losses...Shannon, Nadia. Claire was a tough girl and watching her break down wasn't easy. Sayid almost cried himself but he had to stay strong. Hurley's reaction was bad enough.

In the end, he decided to stay with Jack. After all, if these freighter people were bad, Sayid could get answers out of them. It didn't have to resort to violence, he thought, but if they didn't co-operate it would make it easier on his conscience to torture the answers out of them. Oh, God he hated the fact that he could inflict pain on people without a second thought. He winced and tried to shake off the thought that he was a bad person but he couldn't.

"You ok, Sayid?" Juliet asked him. He turned to her, his thoughts about _her _rapidly changing from bad to good. She was ok, an Other, but still a decent person.

"Everything's going to change." He stated, a deep rumble of grief in the back of his throat and he wasn't sure who it was for. Charlie? Shannon? Nadia? Or was it self-pity, knowing that he had begun to enter a life changing state? Whatever it was, he hated the feeling of weakness it brought with him.

"Well, yes, I suppose so." Juliet responded, a look of thoughtfulness on her face. "But things would get rather boring if they stayed the same, don't you think?" She grinned and Sayid returned her smile reluctantly. He couldn't help thinking that _he_ should've gone into the Looking Glass and not Charlie. After all, Charlie had had Claire and Aaron and what did he have? Nothing except the faint hope that the woman he loved was still out there, searching for him.

Sayid sighed and clutched his gun tighter to his chest. Whatever happened, happened. A young man was gone forever, leaving behind a grieving mother and Hurley and now, things were going to change. But he was going to take a leaf out of Charlie's book. He was going to face up to fate and accept the consequences of every decision he made. What else could he do? He looked around at the drabble of people that were left and decided that he would protect them at all costs. And if rescue came, he was going to fight throught the jungle and make sure that _every single person _got off. After all, he owed it to that poor soul who was left alone in the Looking Glass, who didn't even have a proper send-off into the afterlife. Sayid dipped his head low and, for the first time in a long time, he prayed.

**-Sun- **

Sun Kwon embraced her husband, not knowing the cost that they all had to pay for their rescue. She loved Jin and it took a plane crash for her to realise how much she'd stand to lose if he died. His grave expression didn't mean a lot to her at first, for she first assumed that his hostage ordeal had shaken him up. How wrong she was.

Jin whispered to her in Korean about what had happened and she couldn't quite believe it. Charlie...dead? It didn't make any sense, though really, did death _ever _make sense? She couldn't put into words, in either Korean or English, how she felt. Her relationship with the young man had been a strange one. She'd rarely talked to him but she'd put her faith in him to bring back Claire's son. And he'd lived up to his word. Then, he'd changed. He lied to Claire, kidnapped Sun for _revenge _and made the whole camp distrust him. Her relationship with him after that had been very cool, especially when he told her about his part in her kidnap ordeal. At first, she'd wanted to slap him like she'd done with Sawyer but, instead, she'd merely stormed off.

Now, she wasn't sure what to think. She was sorry he was dead, naturally, but she couldn't quite reach that appropriate amount of grief that one was meant to feel. Just because he was dead, was she supposed to forget her ordeal? No, but she was expected to at least be at peace with the guy. All things considered, he was a good man. He looked after Claire like she was family and he was so good with Aaron. Sun had once had to ask him to calm down Aaron when Claire had gone for a walk and, within seconds, the infant was gurgling with satisfaction. She didn't know how he did it.

Claire and Hurley were devastated, naturally, and still she couldn't quite grasp the situation. Jin was silent, his head lowered in respect and even Sayid was grave. The circumstances of Charlie's death was very severe too and still _nothing. _She was frustrated. Not with Charlie but with herself. It was only when she saw her best friend, Claire, and Hurley disappear with Locke into the unknown that she burst into tears and rested her head against Jin's chest. Startled, he took her in his arms and she accepted his love in silence.

_I forgive you, _she told Charlie silently. _I never got to say it, but I do. Please forgive me for being so angry. _Did he forgive her or not? She feared she would never know but it was strange that the moment she finished thinking that prayer, the rain let up, if only for a few seconds.

--the end--


End file.
